The Rise of Harley Quinn
by KMBlackwell
Summary: Batman the Animated Series meets The Dark Knight. Harley Quinn's origins told with a little twist. Also touches on some of the comics. Enjoy!


Harleen walked down the creepy halls at Arkham. Her heels made a resounding echo of clicks and clacks that could be heard across the complex. It was a new sound for the place. Everything seemed to stand still as she walked. She held her head high as she passed several of her prospects. Her lab coat swayed to and fro making it seem as if she were floating down the hallway. A smile creeped across her face as another doctor greeted her and handed her a clip board.

"Good morning, Dr. Quinnzel. You're looking rather confident today. Did you manage to meet with Mr. Wayne?"

"Ah, thanks Dr. Strange, but no. It seems that our meeting is yet again postponed on account of Mr. Wayne's busy schedule."

"That's the third time this month, Harleen, aren't you going to take no for an answer?"

"Now, what kind of girl would I be if I didn't believe in second chances?"

The two doctors rounded the corner to a corridor leading to isolated cells. They waved their badges in unison toward the guard and pushed past the locked gate.

"Two up!" the guard shouted.

Harleen smiled at the guard and he title his hat to her.

"How is you back, Larry?" she asked in passing.

"Oh, swell! You'll have to thank Pam for me! Those pills certainly do the trick!"

Harleen waved back to him and turned her attention to the clip board that Dr. Strange had given her. She smiled to herself as she remembered how much she enjoyed his work on the late Dr. Crane, formerly known as "Scarecrow".

"How is Dr. Crane these days?"

"Oh, I'd image doing very well. He has been clear of any outbursts since his rehab here at Arkham," Dr. Strange answered.

"Fascinating," Harleen replied as she thumbed through some pages.

The two of them approached a cluster of offices with a rather large older woman sitting at the receptionist's desk.

"Good morning Dr. Strange, Dr. Quinnzel! There is fresh coffee and turnovers in the break room!" she smiled sweetly in between the random screeching of inmates.

Harleen barely looked up from the documents in front of her and made a slight chuckle as she went straight for her office. Dr. Strange looked up and waved.

"You know how she is when she has a new project, Dolores. Thank you, very much. Did you make the turnovers yourself?" he asked sweetly.

"Oh, yes! Your favorite Dr. Strange! Apple cinnamon with a hint of caramel," she smiled as she picked up a ringing telephone.

"You're the best, I don't care what they say about you!" he laughed as he walked into Dr. Quinnzel's office.

Harleen was already seated behind her desk staring intently at the clipboard. She was stern and serious as she thumbed through the pages. Dr. Strange made it a point not to make a sound as he took a seat in the chair across from her desk. He folded his arms and watched her take in his latest proposal. He watched her baby blue eyes scan the pages. Her eyelashes batted once or twice when she read over something gruesome but her composure never faltered.

He knew he had made the right choice. Harleen is a wonderful psychiatrist and is dedicated to any task at hand. But he had a feeling she may be thinking a little too hard about this one. He decided to interrupt her before she went over thinking things.

"So, how about it? You up for the challenge? I need to leave here on a good note and all I need is a young grasshopper like you to gloat about when I retire next year."

"Doc, I gotta say, I wasn't expecting something like this for another year or so," she whispered hesitantly.

"Well, seeing as how the funding from Wayne Enterprises may or may not be there in a year, I decided to initiate it now. You're the brightest mind we have—and the youngest. Our subject may open up to you more than the others," Dr. Strange suggested.

"Well, I'm honored that you think so—"

Harleen was cut off by her own cell phone going off in her pocket.

"You know you aren't supposed to have one of those in here, Harleen," Dr. Strange said coldly.

"I know, I know. But I left my cell phone number with Mr. Wayne's secretary just in case he can't reach me here."

"Oh, I suppose that is allowable. Did he send you a message?"

"No. It's Pam. She says that she needs me to come to her office and that it is important," Harleen replied with concern.

"Hm, I feel as though Dr. Isley never has problems in her lab. I hope all is well."

"She says it has something to do with Wayne Enterprises. I wonder if they cut funds to her research."

Harleen sighed and grabbed her briefcase. She hated to put Dr. Strange on the back burner but she needed to get a handle on the funding issue before she agreed to any projects.

"Look, Doc, I have to go check on Pam. I'll take a closer look at it after lunch," Harleen shook the doctor's hand and made her way to the door.

"Harleen."

"Yes, doc?"

"He is expecting you. Today," Dr. Strange looked Harleen dead in the eyes.

"Fine. I'll be there," Harleen smiled sweetly to negate his stern look.

* * *

><p>"THIS IS RIDICULOUS! Who the HELL does this Bruce Wayne think he is? Hm? I've been doing research in this lab for ten years! I have never had my funding cut so drastically!"<p>

Harleen snuck into Dr. Pamela Isley's office just as she was about to throw her computer from her desk. Pam's wild red hair was a match for her temper. It is hard to make her mad but when she is upset she is not very good at hiding it.

"Woah! Pam!" Dr. Quinnzel rushed to stop Pamela from throwing a computer monitor to the floor.

"All that research I did was for nothing!" Pamela started to sob angrily as she sank into Dr. Quinnzel's arms.

Harleen knew how dedicated Pam was to her research and it was gut-wrenching to see her this upset. She held Pam's quivering body close to hers as she wept into her lab coat. A few of her loyal lab assistants hovered around and started to clean up her office. Harleen pantomimed where things should go as she rocked Pam back and forth.

"Pam, sweetie, maybe we should take you home. Take the day off," Harleen suggested.

Dr. Isley began to sob once more as she nodded into Harleen's lab coat, which was now covered in eye makeup and red lipstick.

Just as Harleen was helping Pamela back to her feet a young man knocked on the door frame.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he spoke hesitantly as he looked at Dr. Quinnzel's lab coat and the sobbing doctor. Harleen patted Pam on the shoulder as one of her assistants gathered her belongings and walked her to the washroom.

"Just another day in paradise. Who are you?" Harleen asked shortly.

"Oh, how rude of me, I'm detective Blake. I am here on account of Wayne Enterprises' investigation. I'm looking for Dr. Strange."

Harleen took in a sharp breath as she heard Wayne Enterprises. She felt the same fury in her stomach that Pamela did, although she wasn't one to cry over things.

"You're kidding, right?" Harleen placed her head in her palm as she chuckled.

"I am horrible at telling jokes, so, no," he smiled.

"Would you mind, enlightening me for a moment?"

"On what matter?"

"What the hell is going on with Bruce Wayne? Why is he getting involved in our research? And what does he want with Dr. Strange?" Harleen was in the detective's face.

"Well, ma'am, I'm afraid I can only discuss that with Dr. Strange. I can tell you that the funding really depends on his research, which is why I am here," he said cooly.

"Dr. Strange hasn't put out any new research in years, in fact, he is about to retire. So, you can march yourself right back to police headquarters and tell them to shove it up there happy asses," Harleen shouted as she pushed past the detective and marched herself toward the exit.

Johnathan Blake watched, amused, at the woman he was going to be studying for the next few weeks. Bruce didn't mention anything about a cute blonde girl with the temper of a 12-year-old.

"This should be fun," he whispered to himself.

* * *

><p>It was after lunch before Harleen came back to her office and decided to start prepping herself to meet with Dr. Strange's subject. She opened the folder that was attached to the clipboard and saw a set of instructions that read:<p>

**_'Call down to cell ward 3546 10 minutes before your arrival. Security will be heavy. Only ask the questions on the paper given to you.'_**

Harleen scoffed at the minor detail and picked up the phone and pressed #3546. A scruffy voice answered and only said one thing, "Ten minutes start now," and then the receiver went silent.

Dr. Quinnzel thought it was odd that only the cell number was listed so she opened up her archives and looked under cell numbers. Before her eyes scanned down the entire list there was a rapid knock at the door followed by an immediate entrance.

"You ready to go yet?" a familiar voice called out.

"Oh, no, let me guess, more detective work?" Harleen scoffed.

"No, actually, a security detail. I am to escort you to the cell," Johnathan Blake responded.

"Where is Larry?"

"His back gave out again, right after lunch. I told him I would take his spot," Blake gleamed.

"How thoughtful," Harleen rolled her eyes as she walked through the doorway carrying her briefcase.

Johnathan grabbed the case and threw it back into the office. Harleen immediately lashed back in protest but her hands were caught in Blake's strong grip. She was about to protest his manners but she caught a glimpse of his stern look. His eyes were fixed on hers and he looked almost angry with her—a strong contrast to his playful demeanor a moment ago. It was like someone flipped a switch in him and he was no longer the detective. She caught herself staring and quickly fluttered her eyelashes.

"W-w-hat was that for?"

"You didn't read the instructions. Did you?" he barked.

"I skimmed it," she grimaced.

Johnathan pulled her in close forcing her to look him in the eyes once more as he spoke, "This guy is evil. He will use anything he has on you and turn it around. Do NOT let him in. Got it?"

Harleen nodded out of fear. She liked that he was stern with her but hated feeling so vulnerable. She let out a heavy sigh as he released her and held out an arm as an escort would. She had a feeling that she may have underestimated the seriousness of Dr. Strange's project. Then she realized that she still had only a number for her subject.

"Mr. Blake?"

"Yes, Dr. Quinnzel?"

"Exactly, who is it that I am going to see?" Harleen asked sternly.

"The Joker."

Johnathan's answer lingered down the halls of screeching inmates and the resounding echo of Harleen's heels clicking and clacking down the hallway followed by a deep throaty laugh.


End file.
